She’d come to the bar straight from the office. The slim white skirt and dark blue silk blouse looked as damned sexy now as it had when he’d watched her leave the house that morning.
As he neared their table, the four men watched him warily.
Stygian grabbed a chair, flipped it around and angled it in beside Liza.
Pure dislike entered several of the men’s gazes.
Straddling the chair, he leaned against the back and met each of their gazes firmly.
“What are you doing here?” Liza hissed as the silence around the table became distinctly uncomfortable.
“Even Breeds enjoy a cold beer every now and then.” He let a grin touch his lips as the perfect arch of her brows lowered in a fierce frown.
“I bet they do.” Chelsea’s grin was filled with teasing enjoyment as she sat back and glanced between him and Liza. “According to Malachi, they enjoy messing with our heads even more.”
Stygian had to chuckle. Chelsea Martinez wasn’t one to keep her smart-ass thoughts to herself, or to sugarcoat much.
“That’s always an enjoyable exercise,” he agreed with a quick grin as he caught Liza’s frown turning to a glare in his periphery. “Though, to be honest, I much prefer a more straightforward approach.”
“Oh, really?” Liza muttered. “And how do you manage that? I thought Breeds were allergic to honesty.”
He could see how she might feel that way after her meeting with Jonas two days before.
“Not so much allergic as merely wary.” Leaning his arms against the top rail of the seatback, he turned his head to her, ensuring she glimpsed the arousal raging inside him.
Two days.
He’d managed to keep his distance for two miserably long days, and he’d had enough.
She was his.
His mate.
She would be his woman.
His world and his life.
If he could convince her to take that chance.
Well, if he could manage to steal a kiss from those sweet lips.
It might have been easier if he wasn’t aware of the fact that Isabelle Martinez, mate to Malachi Morgan, had already warned her friends of the mating phenomena.
“You’re not wanted here, Breed.” Klah Hunter kept his voice low, but his tone was nothing if not dominant and filled with warning.
Stygian didn’t bother to even glance his way.
“Dance with me.” Staring into Liza’s eyes, he knew if he didn’t have her against him soon, he was likely to end up in a fight instead.
“If she wanted to dance with you, then she would have invited you,” Klah snapped. “This is a get-together for friends only, Breed. You’re in no position to apply for the title.”
“I’m not applying for the position of friend,” he assured the other man—Breed?
He didn’t bother to explain the position he was after. Hell, he wasn’t picky at this point. He’d take missionary if that was all she was offering.
Though, he was partial to doggie style.
He was certain that wasn’t exactly the sort of position any of them had in mind, though.